Isaac Watts · 159 of 724

The Psalms of David · Psalm 73

Lord, what a thoughtless wretch was I, To mourn, and murmur, and repine, To see the wicked placed on high, In pride and robes of honor shine!

But O their end, their dreadful end! Thy sanctuary taught me so; On slipp'ry rocks I see them stand, And fiery billows roll below.

Now let them boast how tall they rise, I'll never envy them again; There they may stand with haughty eyes, Till they plunge deep in endless pain.

Their fancied joys, how fast they flee! Just like a dream when man awakes; Their songs of softest harmony Are but a preface to their plagues.

Now I esteem their mirth and wine Too dear to purchase with my blood; Lord, 'tis enough that thou art mine, My life, my portion, and my God.